Schumann: Erstes Verlust

O, dreary fall the leaves, The withered leaves; Among the trees Complains the breeze, That still bereaves.

All silent lies the mere, The silver mere, In saddest wise Reflecting skies Forlorn and sere.

Would autumn had not claimed its own And would the swallows had not flown.

Skies overcast! Leaves falling fast! And she has passed And left the woodland strown, The woodland strown, The silver mere, The dying year, And me alone.

Skies overcast! Leaves falling fast! Does she that passed Dream of the woodland strown, The woodland strown, The silver mere, The dying year, And me alone?